


Always and Forever

by hookedonfanfic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29388240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hookedonfanfic/pseuds/hookedonfanfic
Summary: The Golden Trio have finally defeated Voldemort and life is slowly getting back to normal. Harry and Hermione have always shared a special bond. But are they just friends like they've always believed? Can one smoldering look turn into something more?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 45
Collections: The Harmony Shag-A-Thon 2021





	Always and Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for The Harmony Shag-A-Thon, hosted by the Facebook group, Harmony & Co. All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work. 
> 
> Thank you to my long time beta Erin for going over this many times and for dealing with my many re-writes in her usual kickass fashion. Thanks also to MarsPotter for her encouragement and mad-beta skills! And many thanks to Erin Lyon and Jonathan Deller for pre-reading this and helping me get over my nervousness. Your support and encouragement means a lot!

**Always and Forever…**

The war had changed Harry. How could it not?

She couldn’t help noticing that there was a reserve…a darkness in him that had never been there before. His smiles – once quick to appear – had grown less frequent. His laughter, even more so. His eyes, previously, always alight with mischief, were now cold and blank. Hard though it was to accept, the relaxed, easy going boy of their childhood was gone. In his place, stood a hard man forged by the burning embers of battle.

The year she, Harry and Ron had spent on the run, hunting for horcruxes, fighting for their lives had taken its toll as well. The constant tension, the incredible burden that had been placed on his shoulders so young – it was a surprise he hadn’t buckled under its weight. They’d been hunted, starved, isolated and deprived for over a year. Not to mention, he’d thought he was going to die for most of that time as well. Was it any wonder that he wasn’t the same young man he’d been prior to all that?

If she was honest with herself, the war had changed her too. She was constantly on edge these days, always waiting for – expecting – the other shoe to drop. It was also hard for her to live without her boys lately. It caused her untold anxiety if she didn’t see them for an extended period of time. Even during the day, when they were busy with their own lives she worried about them incessantly. She was pretty sure this was PTSD caused in no small part by everything they’d been through. In particular, Harry’s _death_ (because no matter what he or anyone else said, he **_had_ **died, however briefly!) had caused her more than a few sleepless nights! She would’ve loved to talk to someone about it – a professional - but unfortunately the magical world didn’t have anything equivalent to a muggle psychologist. (Bringing awareness to issues like these was definitely one of the key action items of her long term plan to overhaul the magical community and bring it into the 21st century.)

Thankfully, Harry and Ron seemed to suffer from a similar problem (they weren’t ready to be apart any more than she was…) and had come up with the rather brilliant plan of living together at the newly revamped Grimmauld Place until Hogwarts was rebuilt and they were ready to head back for their final year.

They were slowly trying to get back to normalcy. But what could be classified as normal these days? So many people had died, or lost someone close to them…how could life ever go back to normal?

Ron was a prime example. None of the Weasley’s would ever get over the loss of Fred entirely but surprisingly Ron had taken it the hardest – besides George, of course. It was possible that this was due to the fact that Ron seemed to spend most of his free time with George lately, helping him to manage the store and at the same time, get over his twin’s loss. In an ironic twist of fate though, the better George got, the worse Ron seemed to get. It was almost like he was absorbing George’s pain, making it his own. The resulting change in Ron’s personality had been monumental. And even though she admired the change a lot – and _loved_ the person he’d grown up to be – she also couldn’t help but miss the Ron she’d known over the years a little.

The immature, jealous, always quick-tempered boy he had been in their childhood, had given way to a rather level-headed individual. Who would’ve believed that the person she’d once accused of ‘having the emotional range of a teaspoon’ would turn out like this – calm and patient and understanding?

One of the side effects of the transformation – her so called relationship with Ron; born in the heat of battle; had naturally fizzled out in this post war reality that they were all still trying to come to grips with. They’d both mutually come to the realization that they weren’t that well suited to each other – all the bickering that everyone had thought was a sign of 'repressed' sexual tension was actually just them getting on each other’s nerves because they were so very different from each other! Following that realization, they’d both decided that they were far better off as friends. And the best part – they were possibly even closer now, in the aftermath of their ‘break-up’ than they’d ever been before. Like always, they were united by a common purpose – Harry Potter and his well-being.

On the other hand, one of the biggest _advantages_ of Ron’s new ‘laid-back’ persona was that he was virtually unaffected by the bouts of darkness that seemed to plague Harry these days! As a result, this made him the _best_ person to have around during one of Harry’s many bleak moments.

Everyone around (everyone but the two of them!) expected Harry to just get back to life, like nothing much had changed. They expected him to shrug off all the responsibilities, all the sorrow and the guilt that had shrouded him all his life and just party like there was no tomorrow. Like he hadn’t just fought for his life. Like he hadn’t faced impossible choices and odds. Like he hadn’t lost so many people who’d meant the world to him. Like he hadn’t had to _kill_ to survive.

But she knew better. She knew _Harry_. She knew the toll the war had taken on his psyche. All around him, he could see destruction and death. He saw people dealing with their losses, trying to move on with their lives and she knew just how guilty he felt for everything they’d been through. Not that any of this was his fault in any way. But Harry being Harry couldn’t help but feel that if he’d defeated Voldemort sooner, some of them would’ve probably survived.

She’d tried multiple times to get him to realize the fallacy of this line of thinking but so far, it had been a fruitless endeavor. But, she was nothing if not stubborn and she wasn’t going to rest until she got through to him somehow! 

But in the meantime – her best friend was drowning. In guilt, in sorrow and despair.

Ginny and he had gotten back together after the battle but even she could see that it was a lost cause. He never said as much but she suspected that every time he looked at Ginny now, he couldn’t help but think of Fred and how he’d failed him and the entire Weasley clan. And that wasn’t the only obstacle to their relationship!

To even the most casual onlooker, there was a strain around his eyes whenever he was with Ginny that hadn’t been there before. Both Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, herself held out hope that he’d get over this funk he seemed to have fallen into and come around, but she knew better. She’d seen how he’d looked at Ginny before the war and she saw the way he looked at her now. There was none of the warmth, none of the longing in his gaze towards her now.

But they still kept trying – Ginny because she kept hoping that he’d change his mind and Harry because he didn’t know how or when to give up!

_She_ on the other hand couldn’t help thinking that sometimes… _sometimes_ , giving up was the right thing to do. As things stood right now, both Ginny and Harry were miserable especially since Mrs. Weasley was trying to use every possible opportunity to push them together. What she failed to realize was, that by doing so, she was inadvertently pushing Harry away instead.

Case in point – this post war celebration/remembrance that Mrs. Weasley had put together. Of course, the main point of the event had been to celebrate their victory against Voldemort while also honoring the dead but both mother and daughter couldn’t help but view it as an opportunity to force Harry to bounce back to his pre-war self. Not that she blamed either of them – they were well meaning but ultimately misguided.

Mrs. Weasley had always thought of Harry as a son and now that she’d actually lost one of her own during the war, she was just doing everything she could to make sure that Harry was a permanent part of her life and family. The way to do that, in her mind, was to make him her son in law as soon as she possibly could!

Ginny – for all her faults (and she did have quite a few of those) loved Harry. Or at least she loved the person he used to be prior to the war. She couldn’t quite decide how she felt about this new Harry that’d taken his place and therein lay the crux of the problem. Ginny wanted Harry to conform to her life; her views. He’d never been one for parties and soirees and he wanted absolutely nothing to do with fame and fortune, now more than ever; whereas Ginny…Ginny was a social butterfly. She wanted to drown out all the tragedies of her life – and they were numerous – by fluttering around from one social scene to another, by laughing the loudest, by being the most vivacious… the most desired. Shallow though this kind of behavior seemed to an outsider, her friends who knew and loved her, couldn’t help but understand. This was her way of trying to get back to her life, her way to make her demons disappear. Unfortunately, she expected to drag Harry along for the ride. And he clearly wanted nothing to do with any of it.

Hermione could see it in his eyes – the desperation to be left alone, the anger that smoldered just under the surface, the resentment. She was terrified that he was going to snap – that if this went on for too long, he was going to break, irreparably, and she would do _anything_ to prevent that from happening.

She would fight with God and Merlin and _Death_ itself if she had to! Nothing and no one was going to hurt Harry again; not even _Ginny_ – not on _her_ watch!

* * *

This ‘get-together’ had taken on a life of its own. What started as a somber, muted affair with only a few select friends and family members assembled at Grimmauld place to commemorate the fallen, had slowly and surely gotten out of hand with more and more people trickling in as the night went by. The only reason Harry had agreed to using Grimmauld Place as the venue for the event in the first place was that Mrs. Weasley had assured him that it’d be a small and intimate affair. (Even though he hadn’t said so, she also knew that he didn’t want Mrs. Weasley to have to host an event of this magnitude at the Burrow in the aftermath of her recent loss – especially since one of the fallen being honored today was Fred. After all the last major event held there had been Bill and Fleur’s wedding and that had been such a lovely, joyous affair – a stark contrast to today’s occasion!) 

To be fair, the evening had started out just as promised – with just the Weasley and some select members of the Order of Phoenix and the DA in attendance. They’d spoken about the people they’d lost and raised toasts to their courage and bravery and sacrifices.

Then, a few of their Hogwarts friends (who’d heard about the event and who wanted to honor the fallen as well) had trickled in. And then a few more. And so on and on it went, until the whole thing had completely blown out of proportion. Someone had brought in food and someone else had ordered drinks and soon, the original purpose of the night had been all but forgotten.

Before they knew it, Grimmauld place was packed to the rafters with party-goers – war heroes and their groupies. People were singing, dancing and drinking and generally having a good time. Everyone seemed to be on a mission to not only live their lives but have a bloody good time while doing so. And who could blame them? They were celebrating the fact that they had made it out of the war; alive.

Everyone except Harry, that is.

Hermione stood in the corner of the living room at Grimmauld, nursing the firewhiskey that someone (most likely Seamus) had shoved in her hand a while ago. She was dressed all in black (the whole thing had started out as a memorial, after all). Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t help but feel completely out of place and awkward (which was ridiculous, considering that this was _her_ home, albeit temporarily!) at this…’ _party_ ’. Even though she understood the reason everyone was celebrating; it still felt like a betrayal of all that they’d done and gone through and lost.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Harry. He was dressed in a dark, body hugging jumper that seemed to bring out the color of his eyes and jeans. His lips were twisted in the derisive smirk that was his trademark look these days, his eyes cold and blank. His entire posture, his very _expression;_ screamed his indifference. She hated this look on his face – physically, _passionately_ hated it. He was way too young (he’d just turned 18 last month, for Merlin’s sake!) to be this cynical…this jaded.

Almost as if he felt her gaze on him, he looked over at that very moment. Their eyes met and something seemed to flicker to life in his – a banked fire. His gaze was hot, possessive, _demanding_ – in a way that it hadn’t ever been before. Taken aback, she quickly glanced away, breaking the connection.

Her nerve endings felt alive, like they’d been scorched by his gaze. Surely, that look hadn’t been meant for her…? Maybe, he’d been looking at someone standing behind her. She turned around to see who it could be and her gaze landed on Ginny who was talking to Dean just a little ways off from where she stood. Ginny, of course! That made way more sense. More disappointed that she’d ever care to admit to herself (or anyone else for that matter) she turned around and began unobtrusively observing her green eyed best friend once again.

Objectively speaking, he’d changed tremendously, not just during their time on the run but after the war as well. Despite her reservations, he’d gone straight from the war into training with the members of the Order of Phoenix. Their entire class had been invited back to finish their NEWT’s year once Hogwarts reopened. Once that was done, however, Harry intended to go straight into Auror training and as such had wanted to get a head start on some preparation for that.

Normally, she would’ve been thrilled. After all, she’d spent her entire childhood trying to get Harry and Ron to stay ahead of their schoolwork. But in this case, she couldn’t help but firmly believe that he’d had more than enough fighting to last his entire lifetime! Unfortunately, he was determined to go ahead with his plans. He’d brushed aside her objections by stating; and rightfully so; that just because they’d defeated Riddle, it didn’t mean that all of his supporters had been defeated too. In fact, a large number of them had gone into hiding and were just waiting for an opportunity to come back and avenge their fallen master.

While she agreed with his reasoning, she still didn’t think it was a good idea for him to go back to combat of any kind before he at least dealt with the toll, the repercussions of everything he’d gone through. But he’d repeatedly brushed her objections aside and finally she’d decided to keep her thoughts to herself, at least for the time being. (Of course that only meant that she was even more vigilant than ever before about keeping an eye on him and his needs.)

The physical changes the training had wrought in him were obvious to everyone. To begin with, he’d gained back all the weight he’d lost during their year on the run and then some – all in the form of muscles. He’d always been lean but now, he had the body structure of an athlete – well-built and muscular. He’d also finally stopped wearing hand-me-down clothes and didn’t go out of his way to hide his looks anymore. He’d bought himself a whole new wardrobe and gotten a stylish new haircut that seemed to emphasize his well-cut features. He also had finally gotten around to getting his vision fixed by an expert at St Mungo’s and the new look just seemed to bring his emerald eyes into stark focus. All in all, even she had to admit – her best friend had grown up… and how! Girls had always been attracted to him – his fame and fortune had always been a huge draw, not to mention his cute, boyish looks. Now though – now he was _hot_. There was no other word for it. And that fact hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice, not even hers, she was ashamed to admit.

The emotional changes were a bit less obvious. He’d become more sullen and moody and was less inclined to socialize, even with his friends. There were many times when she’d caught him brooding in the corner at one of their post war celebrations or friendly get togethers nursing his drink and eyeing everyone dispassionately. He was also more likely to yell or snap at people for any perceived slights than he’d ever been before. These changes though, if possible, had made him even more popular with the ladies than ever before.

Even she had caught herself, on many an occasion, wanting to run her hands down his newly chiseled abs (Perks of being his roommate – she was treated to his ‘early morning’ or ‘just out of the shower’ shirtless looks all the bloody time!) or smooth down his tousled hair. Of course, such feelings were nothing more than flights of fancy on her part. She shook herself out of her bout of self-pity. So she would never know what it was like to be touched or kissed by Harry Potter, so what? She was closer to him than anyone else in the world and she was perfectly happy with that!

She sighed wearily and shoved her illicit feelings back in the corner of her mind, where they’d rested for the majority of her teenage years. Like every other girl, she’d had a massive crush on him growing up. To be fair, who wouldn’t? He was cute, sweet, funny and brave – not to mention, a genuine hero. Not only had he saved her life on numerous occasions but he also routinely insisted on putting his own life on the line for all the people he cared about. Add to that, the fact that he was ridiculously powerful in terms of his raw magical energy and she’d had to stop herself from drooling all over him numerous times over the course of their teenage years. But over time, she’d come to terms with the fact that Harry would always be her friend and nothing more. Mainly because he’d never looked at her as anything other than his best friend! At best, he found her endearing, like a pesky sibling. At worst, she was a nagging shrew who constantly hounded him about his studies and homework. So, she’d dealt with her feelings, in her own way – by ignoring them. And for the most part, she was content with her role in his life. (Few other girls could say that they were one of the two most important people in his life!) She was and always would be his best friend and she took that job seriously. Long ago, she’d decided that it was her job to look out for him, to make sure he was happy and that’s what she’d do, even if it was with someone else.

She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. On the surface, he seemed to be having a good time tonight, throwing back one drink after the other and chatting with his friends. Only those that knew him well (and she definitely did) could see the quiet desperation in his eyes. The anger that always burned just under the surface could be seen simmering in his eyes, just waiting to explode. Oh god, he was going to snap.

She started towards him, hoping to get him alone and in a place where he’d have the chance to calm down a little but Ginny caught up to him first.

“Harry, darling, you haven’t danced with me all night!” Ginny pouted prettily while dragging him along behind her to the makeshift dance floor.

Hermione cringed. How drunk was Ginny exactly?

Even from this far away, she saw Harry’s reluctance. He’d always hated being in the limelight and dancing even more so. But Ginny paid no mind and soon they were swaying along to the music that was blasting out of the wireless.

She could see that he was gritting his teeth but for the life of her couldn’t figure out a way to rescue him without causing a scene. Ginny wasn’t too happy with her lately. (She felt, unfairly so, that Hermione was against her and Harry’s relationship. She wasn’t entirely wrong – Hermione was and always would be in Harry’s corner. If he wanted to be with Ginny and was happy with her, then Hermione would support them 100%. The problem was – he clearly wasn’t happy with her. And therein lay Hermione’s ambivalence to them as a couple!) So she certainly wouldn’t be happy if Hermione tried to steal Harry away from the dance floor right now.

Before she could come up with a viable plan, Ernie, Justin and Terry came along, asking her opinion on the new legislation for werewolf rights that the ministry was rumored to be drafting and she lost her line of thought for a bit, getting entirely caught up in the topic of equal rights for all magical creatures – a topic that (due to Remus and Dobby) was especially close to her heart! She hadn’t interacted much with either of the three boys at Hogwarts but they seemed surprisingly well-informed and knowledgeable on the topic of creature rights. They also seemed way more interested in her and her views now than they’d ever been before. But then that was what being a war heroine got you, she couldn’t help but think cynically. Terry Boot in particular seemed determined to get to know her on a more personal basis and kept asking her out – ostensibly to discuss the topic further. Thoroughly flummoxed by her newfound popularity, she vaguely promised to give the matter some thought in the near future before delicately extricating herself from the conversation.

Once alone, she turned around to check in on Harry once again, but ran smack into Cormac Maclaggen.

“Hermione Granger!” He exclaimed delightedly. “Just the person I was looking for.”

_Oh bugger!_ To be honest, she’d never really gotten over her experience with Cormac at the Slug Club Party in 6th Year.

“Oh…?” She questioned reluctantly, praying desperately for a miracle to come along.

“You’re a hard person to get a hold of,” he continued jovially. “Not that I’m surprised, ‘Miss Smartest Witch of her Age’…”

She cringed internally. How she hated that moniker! Every time someone called her that she had a newfound appreciation for Harry’s predicament at being called ‘The Boy who Lived’ or lately, ‘The Boy who Conquered.’ Honestly, did people have no better use for their time than to come up with these ridiculous nicknames?!

“Is there something you needed from me, Cormac?” She asked, trying her best to not be…snappish.

“Oh, straight to the point – I like it. I’ll get right on it, then, shall I? I actually _did_ have to ask you a very important question, you see…”

“Yes…?”

“What does a bloke have to do to earn a dance with you, Miss Granger?” he joked, his signature smirk firmly in place.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no! Cormac and dancing…? Bad idea! Bad _bad_ idea!! Especially with his tendency to…to flirt and cling and _grope_!

“Well, I need to check on Harry actually…” she muttered weakly, trying frantically to extricate herself from the situation.

“Oh tosh!” He exclaimed. “Potter’s a big boy! He can take care of himself!”

“I…I’m not a good dancer…” she tried again.

“But I am. I’ll take care of you.” He countered firmly. “Besides, I think you’re being too modest. I saw you at the Yule Ball with Krum. You were fabulous!”

Without waiting for any further objections on her part, he took her arm and dragged her along to the dance floor. He pulled her close, his arms immediately coming to rest on the upper swell of her buttocks. Ugh! He hadn’t changed in the last couple of years at all. He was still the same insolent, entitled _tosser_ that he’d always been. But she didn’t want to cause a scene.

Besides, she could handle herself! And she certainly wasn’t above hexing his bollocks off if he got too presumptuous! “Okay fine. One dance.” She acquiesced reluctantly while primly rearranging his hands on her waist. “Then I really have to go make sure Harry’s alright.”

“Okay, okay, Potter’s the priority. Understood. Hey, I’ll take what I can get!” he winked cheekily and pinched her butt.

Ugh! What an utter _wanker_ …!

A commotion at the other end of the room drew her attention away from her own predicament. Some of the sconces near the fireplace seemed to have spontaneously exploded resulting in some of the tapestries and portraits catching fire. The portraits in question were naturally… _unhappy_ with the situation, resulting in lot of screaming and cursing and talk about their ancient noble family home being sullied by the presence of… _undesirable_ elements. Hence the aforementioned commotion.

The witches and wizards in the immediate vicinity of the occurrence immediately scrambled to pull out their wands and take care of the necessary damage control. All the fires were put out and the portraits were covered back up with thick drapes.

In the middle of all these chaos was Harry, who seemed to be glaring at something on her side of the room; his eyes filled with rage; his chest heaving as he struggled for control.

He hadn’t had any accidental outbursts of magic in _weeks_ now though they had been fairly common during the first few weeks after the battle of Hogwarts. She instinctively made a move towards him, but Cormac had his arms wrapped firmly around her.

And the same could be said about Ginny and Harry. Hermione could see her hugging Harry, talking to him; their foreheads touching intimately. Her stomach lurched with some… _thing._ An ugly, monstrous thing. Hurriedly, she turned away, unable to look at them even a moment longer.

“Wow. Potter’s still pretty out of it, huh?” Cormac whistled, offering a distraction, unwelcome though it was. At the same time he pulled her closer – a little too close for her comfort. She squirmed awkwardly, trying to put some much needed distance between their bodies but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“Oh, you little minx!” he whispered salaciously, sliding his hands up and down her back. “You always liked playing hard to get, didn’t you?”

Fuck it all, she’d had enough! She was going to…!!

"OW!" Cormac yelped loudly, jerking away from her as if he'd been electrocuted.

She stared at him, breathing hard, unaware of actually doing a spell to repel him consciously. Not that he didn't deserve it and much more, the _arse_! She was spitting mad and frankly, utterly offended by his complete disregard for any decency!

“Hermione, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Ron called out from behind her before she could cause any further bodily harm. “Mind if I borrow her, mate?” he questioned cursorily while trying to pull her away from Cormac’s arms. His touch managed to calm her down a bit (as was his intention no doubt) but she was still raring to hex the living daylights out of Cormac _fucking_ Maclaggen!

Unaware of his precarious situation, the bloke in question tried to protest Ron's interruption.

"Are you bramy?!" Ron questioned him grimly. "Have you _utterly_ lost your marbles? Between Harry's sheer magical powers and legendary temper and Hermione's knowledge of innumerable spells and curses you're lucky to even be getting out of here _alive_ for what you just pulled, mate. I'd count my blessings and run, if I were you!" 

Having his situation so succinctly explained to him seemed to have the desired effect. Cormac paled and backed away from her hurriedly.

"Good choice," Ron pointed out with fake cheer. "Looks like you aren't as stupid as I'd previously thought! Now run along like a good little boy and don't show your face here ever again. Also, stay the _fuck_ away from Hermione in the future, unless you want your bollocks hexed off!" He threatened over his shoulder, while tugging her away firmly. 

She was so grateful for the intervention that she couldn’t help but throw her arms around Ron joyously. (After all, he'd saved her from being arrested and facing trial for murder!) “I love you!” she whispered fervently in his ear, her voice full of gratitude. "But, I had that under control, you know." 

Ron grinned, quirking an eyebrow at her mischievously. "Clearly!!" He joked. He’d been filled in on the whole Slug Club incident by both herself and Harry and knew how much she'd been dying to get...some _payback_ for what had happened back then. “You looked like you were having a ball!” he joked.

“Prat!” She swatted him playfully.

His next statement however; uttered somberly; was enough to bring her attention right back to their mutual best friend. “Sometimes, I wonder if my sister knows Harry at all!” Ron grumbled, and she couldn’t help but secretly share that sentiment.

“Uh oh! What now?”

“See for yourself!” he turned her around, gesturing towards Harry and Ginny on the other side of the room.

She grimaced, immediately understanding where Ron’s irritation was coming from.

There was Harry, throwing back shot after shot of firewhiskey with Ginny and her friends, some of whom seemed to be giggling hysterically and trying to one up each other by cozying up to him. But where Ginny and her gang seemed to be having a great time, Harry looked like he’d give his left arm, his kidney _and_ his ‘top of the line’ broomstick to be anywhere but there.

“We need to save him!” She burst out.

“Already on it!” Ron responded, “Come on,” he gestured her to follow along, “I have a plan!”

“Oy Gin, mom’s looking for you!” Ron shouted over the giggles and chatter of the women surrounding Harry. Reluctantly, Ginny left to check on Molly.

“Ladies,” he winked at Ginny’s friends, trying to divert their attention from their mutual best friend while simultaneously shoving her into said friend’s arms. “I’m looking for some lucky bird to dance with. Any takers?”

The thing to be noted here – Ron had become quite the ladies’ man since their break up. It helped that he was no longer dressed in hand me downs and was a genuine war hero. It also didn’t hurt that he was Harry Potter’s best friend. The ladies couldn’t seem to get enough of him these days and Ron for his part, loved the attention.

Ginny’s friends took the offer and flocked towards the dance floor behind Ron leaving Harry and Hermione alone for the first time all night.

“Hey,” she eyed him in concern, “doing alright?”

“Hermione, you're ok!” He hugged her, grinning stupidly. Huh? “I’m so sloshed!” He blinked and took a deep breath, the smile falling off his face. “Merlin, this is all so _fucked_ up!”

She winced. “Come on, let’s get you out of here!”

Taking his hand in hers she shepherded him out of the living room and into the one room guaranteed to be unoccupied no matter how crowded Grimmauld Place got – the Black family library. Due to the nature of the books in the room (before Sirius and Regulus, the Black’s had been a dark family through and through who were proud of their affiliations and their collection of books did nothing to hide that fact in any way!) it was heavily warded against everyone but the three of them – Harry, Ron and herself.

Once inside, she locked the door and made sure to reinforce it with some generic spells – a silencing charm and another one to repel any unwanted company. Harry meanwhile picked up one of the numerous bottles of firewhiskey from the side table, threw back yet another generous helping down his throat and groaned loudly.

“Why can’t everyone just leave us the _fuck_ alone?!” he bit out harshly while throwing himself on the sofa, shoes and all. She didn’t have the heart to chastise him for it.

“Well, they care about us…” she said, trying to placate him.

“Oh bollocks!” Wow. He’d really worked himself up into a snit. “They don’t care about anyone other than themselves! They certainly don’t give a _shite_ about me – maybe my fame and fortune, but not about me!”

“That’s not true…” she protested.

“Name one person who cares about ‘Harry Potter – the person’, Hermione!” She opened her mouth. “And you and Ron don’t count!” he interrupted. She shut her mouth abruptly. “See? You can’t, can you?”

“Ginny cares…” she spoke hesitantly, more than a bit reluctant to bring her up.

He scoffed disbelievingly.

“Why are you with her?” She couldn’t stop herself from blurting out.

“Huh?” he questioned, sitting up on the sofa and scrubbing his face with both hands.

“Ginny. Why are you with her when you clearly don’t want to be?” She clarified feeling more than a bit annoyed with him.

“Because everyone expects it, I guess…”

She was stunned. “That’s no reason to be with someone…”

“Maybe I just don’t want to be alone…” He didn’t even realize how sad…and _lonely_ that made him sound.

She instantly went down on her knees before him and cupped his face. “You _aren’t_!” she protested vehemently. “You have _me_.”

Just like that, his air of melancholy dropped away. His eyes flickered with something primal, the air around him crackling with sudden intensity. “Do I?” he growled, pulling her closer. “ _Have_ you?”

Her breath caught in her throat. What…what was going on? She’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t noticed this look in his eyes before. She’d even seen it aimed her way occasionally but she’d never put too much stock in it. She hadn’t dared! So this…this was uncharted territory.

She stared at him in mutely; heat pooling in her whole body at the look in his eyes. He looked like a predator, waiting to pounce on his prey, eager to devour it. She gulped. Was she the prey? She couldn’t be, could she?

“Answer me, Hermione!” he demanded, grabbing her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Wha…Harry…?” She gasped feeling completely out of sorts.

“I saw you dancing with Cormac earlier…” he bit out in a complete change of topic that left her reeling. “I _hated_ it!”

She didn’t know what to say. Or do. Or think.

“I…I…” she sputtered.

“He’s a right bastard, you know that, right? I could _kill_ him for what he pulled with you tonight! He had his _fucking_ hands all over you! He had _no_ right!! ” The fire in his eyes was unnerving. “He’s a womanizer, a pathetic excuse of a human being and an absolute _twat_! He doesn’t deserve you! You…You’re _special_ Mione. You deserve to be respected. Loved. Cherished. _Worshipped_! ” With each word, his voice got softer and huskier and more ... _seductive._

Her mind blanked out. Inch by inch his face got closer to hers. Try as she might, she couldn’t figure out what was going on? Had she fallen into an alternate reality somehow – a reality in which Harry wanted _her_? And then, before she could do or say anything his lips were on hers.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been kissed, not by a long shot – there was Viktor in 4th year and then Ron for the brief amount of time that they’d been together – but this… this burning intensity, this reckless passion was entirely new to her. Harry kissed her like his entire life, his very being depended on it. He crashed into her, and devoured her like a man starving for oxygen and she could do nothing more than cling on to him for dear life.

Her senses were alive…her heart was full to bursting. She welcomed the taste of him, the feel and touch of him. She’d never let herself even acknowledge this but in her secret hopes and dreams, she’d wanted this for _so_ long! And now it was finally happening. It didn’t seem real. Maybe she was dreaming. Or fantasizing.

“Harry?” Ron’s voice seemed like it was coming from a distance.

“Ignore him!” Harry growled, kissing her harder. She was more than happy to oblige.

“Hermione?” This time she could hear the knock on the door as well. Bloody hell! “You guys doing ok in there?”

Merlin, Ron had the worst _timing_ in the whole fucking world!! Reluctantly, they pulled away from each other. Their breathing was labored and the look in Harry’s eyes – Damn! - it all but melted her into a puddle of goo.

Straightening up to his full height, Harry ran a hand through his hair and set about righting his clothes. Eyeing her objectively to make sure she was presentable as well, he casually waved his hand and unlocked the library door to let Ron in.

She envied him his composure. She was a blubbering, blithering mess and he was calm enough to pull off a wandless spell. Great, just freaking great!

“What is it Ron?” Harry questioned calmly (while Hermione was still trying to regain the ability to even form words!)

“Well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay…” Ron was looking at her weirdly, almost as if he suspected that something fishy had been going on. But he couldn’t know, could he? Merlin, she hoped not! “I also wanted to tell you that the Mum and Dad were talking about leaving, you know, in case you guys wanted to say your goodbyes…”

She cleared her throat, finally managing to get her vocal cords working again. “We should…”

Harry was silent but she took it as tacit agreement and turned to leave the room before him. As she was passing him by, he caught a hold of her arm and pulled her close. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot…”

And just like that, she was breathless again.

* * *

Long after most the guests had departed and everyone else (Ginny, Neville and a few of their other classmates had been too inebriated to disapparate and had been given guestrooms to sleep the firewhiskey off) in the house was fast asleep, she was still wide awake and restless – pacing up and down the length of her room. Sleep had proven to be elusive – not that _that_ was so much of a surprise, given the events of the evening.

Harry had kissed her. _Her! Hermione Granger!_

And it hadn’t been just any ordinary kiss either. It had been the single most erotic experience of her life so far! Her body was still tingling from the feelings he’d managed to evoke, hours after the fact! She’d been so turned on, she couldn’t know, with any degree of certainty, what she’d have done…how far she’d have gone, if not for Ron’s interruption! And that was completely and totally humiliating!!

She – Hermione Granger – bookworm and nerd extraordinaire, had gone completely to pieces as soon as Harry Potter had touched her. She, who’d always scoffed at all of his so called fangirls and ridiculed all of their desperate fawning, had behaved no better than any of them! How utterly embarrassing! What was worse – she’d give her wand arm to be kissed by Harry again!

But she couldn’t stop asking herself a simple question - why? _Why_ had he kissed her? And even more importantly, why _now_? And what did he mean when he said that it wasn’t over? Was she supposed to confront him? And if so, what was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say?

Before she could ‘think’ herself into a nervous breakdown, there was a quick, firm knock on her door. Her breath caught in her throat.

Nervously, she walked over and opened the door to find Harry leaning casually against the doorjamb. He still had that look on his face – the predatory one – like he was on the hunt. Her heart started pounding erratically.

He eyed her up and down, lazily, his eyes taking in her disheveled appearance. “Nice PJ’s,” he said gruffly, his eyes as inscrutable as they’d been of late.

She blushed, realizing that she was dressed in nothing but one of his old quidditch jerseys that she’d ‘borrowed’ from him while they were living in the tent.

“Turn around!” He demanded abruptly.

“What?” she questioned, confused.

“Turn around…” he repeated himself, impatiently gesturing with his finger.

Utterly confused, she turned around instinctively.

“Fuck, I love seeing you in my clothes!!” he growled. “Seeing my name on your back makes me feel like you belong to me! _Do_ you?” he questioned huskily, gently pushing her back into the room and pulling the door shut behind him all without taking his eyes off her even for a moment. “Belong to me?”

“I..I…” Ugh, why was she suddenly so tongue tied around him? She felt like such an idiot!

Reaching for her, he grabbed a firm hold of the jersey and used the grip to pull her inexorably towards him. “I really, _really_ want you to…”

Speechless. She was utterly speechless. How had they come to this? How had one night changed so much?

His mouth plundered hers once again; swallowing all of her doubts and uncertainties.

But this time, it wasn’t just her lips he wanted. His hands raced all over her possessively – running from her shoulders all the way down her back, imprinting his presence all over her.

His tongue swept her lower lip maddeningly. Once. Twice. She clutched at him in desperation, afraid that he’d change his mind and stop this madness. Because surely, that’s all it was. Madness.

His teeth nipped at her – breaking her chain of thought – his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth insistently. She gasped, opening herself to his invasion instantly. Afterall, she’d never been able to deny Harry anything and she certainly wasn’t about to start now!

He groaned, deepening the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer. As their tongues dueled, he grabbed the hem of his jersey and inched it up her back. His hands spanned her ribcage, his thumbs coming to rest just under her breasts. Subconsciously she pushed into him, her body desperately craving his touch. He seemed to understand what she needed without her having to say anything. They’d always been like that – instinctively attuned to each other’s needs.

His thumbs swept up, inching closer and closer to where she wanted them the most – until they swept over her straining nipples. The first touch of his fingers on her flesh seemed to electrify them both.

Hermione melted – her insides flooding with moisture. Harry groaned, cupping her buttocks as he picked her up and urged her to wrap her arms and legs around him. He walked over to the wall closest to the bed and propped her back against it for support. This freed his hands long enough for him to yank the jersey off of her entirely, leaving her clad in nothing but a tiny, lacy thong.

His eyes roved over her hungrily, taking in her curves for the first time. “You’re so _fucking_ perfect Mione!” His touch, his guttural tone, that nickname that he’d never used before – they all combined to make her positively crazy.

She mewled – wanting, _needing_ more!

Cursing under his breath, he propped her even higher and bent down to lave her nipple with his tongue. The feeling was…indescribable. Her hands went to the back of his head, holding him in place silently demanding more. Wordlessly, his lips closed around her, biting, licking, sucking until she was squirming, mindless, from the pleasure of it all.

In moments, she was right at the edge, her thighs dripping with moisture and he was still fully dressed. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all.

Determinedly, she yanked at his clothes, urging him to take them off, until together they had managed to rid him of his jumper and shirt. She’d seen him shirtless multiple times while they’d lived together but for the first time, she had the liberty to run her hands all over him like she’d secretly dreamed of doing multiple times in the past year and a half. It was sheer perfection!

She touched him everywhere – over his broad shoulders and well defined arms, down his pecs and over his chiseled abs. He shuddered at her touch, giving her a rush of power! Eager to elicit more reactions from him, she leaned over and licked his nipples in much the same way that he’d licked hers. The reaction was instantaneous. His hips jerked, pressing his hardness against the juncture of her thighs.

Merlin, Morgana and _Circe_!

She needed all of him, and she couldn’t wait any longer. She reached down between them and caressed him through his jeans. That was all it took to mobilize him. 

“ _Fuck_!” he swore wholeheartedly.

She could relate. The feel of him was enough to turn her insides to mush. She was glad he was still holding her up, otherwise she wasn’t sure her legs would have supported her weight right then.

A part of her – the only part that could even think rationally at this point – wondered why she’d never reacted to anyone else this strongly before. Why was it only Harry that always stirred her to such heights of emotion – be it anger or passion or despair?

Before she could pursue the matter any further, Harry vanished the rest of his clothes (right along with her knickers!) in yet another burst of spontaneous wandless magic. His length sprang free between them; velvet steel, engorged and beautiful and her brain shut down entirely. Entranced by his beauty, she reached for him, her hand circling him tenderly.

“Hermione,” he gasped, his voice filled with need. “are you sure? Fucking hell, _please_ be sure,” he begged incoherently. “I’m not sure I can stop now… I want…no, I need to be inside you, Mione, please!”

Incapable of speech, all she could do was nod.

He still hesitated. “Protection…?” He grunted out, clearly struggling to maintain some semblance of control.

She nodded again, grateful that he’d at least had the presence of mind to check with her. (While magic was amazing, in that none of the STD’s that plagued the muggles even existed in their world, they still had to worry about the other unwanted consequences of their actions and neither of them was even remotely prepared to handle those at this point in their lives!)

“Thank Merlin!” he muttered, and bottomed out inside her in a single thrust.

Gasping in shock, they both stilled, their eyes meeting in wonder. The connection was instantaneous – like they were born to do this, like they’d both come _home_! Why had they never done this before?

“Are you okay?” he panted.

“Uh huh…” she assured him.

“Want me to stop?” he questioned, smirking slyly.

No, no, no, **No**! She’d die if he stopped now! She was addicted to him. And like a junkie, she had to have _more_!

“No, please.” She begged.

“Then what should I do? Tell me what you want me to do, Mione…” he demanded, not just urging her with words but with his touch as well. His fingers were trailing all over her body, leaving flames in their wake.

“I want you to move…” she whimpered, squirming.

Determined to tease her, he held her hips firmly, holding her immobile and making her want to scream in frustration. “What was that?” he reiterated. “I don’t think I heard you. Could you repeat yourself? And this time, be more _specific_ …”

That sneaky bastard! He knew just what he was doing to her, just what he was making her feel. He knew that right then, she’d do anything that he wanted. Anything at all.

“I want you to…” she trailed off, flushing all over. She couldn’t say it, could she? She was usually so proper. Merlin, she was going to hex him for making her say this. “I want you to make love to me…” she blurted out finally.

“Like this?” he asked, pumping his length in and out of her body excruciatingly slowly.

“Harder!” She almost sobbed in frustration.

“Go on, say it then! What do you want me to do?” he bit out, keeping up his slow movements and at the same time, driving her crazy by flicking and pinching her nipples alternatively.

She snapped. Bugger it all!

“I want you to _fuck_ me!” she almost growled in frustration.

“Good girl…” he praised, obliging instantly. Using the wall as leverage, he thrust inside her firmly. “Like this?” he growled.

“Yes!” she screamed, grabbing handfuls of his hair. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath – her thoughts had grown sluggish. Her whole world was narrowed down to Harry and the wonderful things he was doing to her.

He pistoned inside her hard and fast and relentlessly driving her further and further towards insanity. In no time at all, she was panting and gasping, right at the very edge of her orgasm.

Sensing what she needed, he reached one hand between their bodies to flick his thumb on her hidden bundle of nerves. At the same time, he leaned down and bit down on her nipple gently. She exploded – her mind fracturing into a million pulsating fragments of pleasure.

Her insides squeezed tight, milking his pleasure. He grunted, pounding into her in disjointed, desperate movements, that just helped prolong her pleasure . A couple of moments later, he bit down on her shoulder to muffle his groan of release; joining her in her ecstasy. Boneless and exhausted, they both slid to the ground in a pile of limbs.

“ _Fuck_ Mione!” he gasped, still completely out of breath due to their exertions. “That was fucking _brilliant_!”

So eloquent. Typical of a boy, really. But she had to agree with the sentiment. It really _had_ been rather… brilliant!

“Remind me again, why haven’t we ever done this before?” he smirked. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”

She shook her head mutely. She didn’t know what to say or even if she _could_ say anything right now. Her vocal cords had deserted her once again.

“I’ve spent all of last year craving you with every breath in my body…” He pulled her close once again, pressing languorous kisses all over her face and down her neck.

What? All of last year? That couldn’t be, could it? She was just herself – plain old Hermione Granger. Why would anyone want her? Why would _Harry_? And what about Ginny? Weren’t they technically together last year? Weren’t they together still?

Oh God, Ginny! She went cold all over, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped all over her head. Despite their recent differences, she still considered herself to be Ginny’s friend. What she was doing; what she and Harry had just _done_ ; it would devastate her.

“We have to stop!” she shoved Harry away, instantly feeling bereft at losing his touch. Was it possible to get instantly hooked on something? If not, how was it possible that she could crave something that she’d never experienced before tonight so badly?

“What?” Thankfully, he appeared as disoriented as she felt.

“We can’t do this, Harry!” she almost sobbed, feeling waves of shame wash over her at her actions. How had she let this happen? How had she messed up so badly? “You’re with Ginny! Oh God, she loves you! This, this is going to destroy her!! We..I…can’t do this to her!” She was crying openly now – not just because of what she had just been complicit to but also because the thought of never feeling like this again…it was _killing_ her!

“Hey, hey…” Harry soothed, trying to reach for her.

She flinched, scrambling to put some distance between them. She was ashamed to admit it but she was terrified of what would happen if she ever let him touch her again. Despite her morals she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to deny him…to deny her own feelings and push him away, even if it was the right thing to do.

He froze, his eyes going dull. He stood up and began putting on his clothes jerkily.

Her heart broke at seeing the lack of emotion in his eyes. He’d shut down. Again. And this time, it was all her fault.

For the first time since the war, she’d finally seen glimpses of ‘her’ Harry today. For the first time, for the last half an hour he didn’t seem to be the same brittle, hard, breakable boy that he’d been for the last few months. And then, bam, she’d gone and destroyed him herself – she – the one person who’d never hurt him until now. “Harry…Please…” she begged, not sure if she was asking him to understand or pleading for his forgiveness.

“I get it.” He answered dully. “I…I understand why you don’t want me.”

No, that wasn’t it at all. If anything, she wanted him too much!

Before she could correct him, he went on, “About Ginny? I’m not with her. At least not since we got back from the war…”

She felt like he’d slapped her in the face. “What?”

“Well, technically, we were together, but like I mentioned before, it was mostly just because it was expected of me,” he went on morosely. “I didn’t really want her, not after everything I’d seen and done. I couldn’t just go back to being the boy she’d dated in 6th year and I told her as much. But she still felt like we could make it work. She begged me to give her another chance and I didn’t have the heart to deny her. More importantly, I also didn’t think I had any chance with you at all and so it’s not like I had any better prospects out there either…”

Gah, this boy! When would he ever realize just how lovable…how desirable he was? He could literally have any girl…or boy he wanted. To think that he thought that Ginny and she were his only options was ridiculous...laughable even. But it was probably in her best interests that he not come to that realization just yet…!

“But lately…” he looked at her with a self-deprecating smile, “I thought I saw you looking to me, the exact same way I’ve been looking at you all year long. And with the way you kissed me tonight… I thought maybe, I stood a chance with you after all. Clearly, I was wrong.” He shrugged dejectedly.

Oh Merlin, what had she done? This was what she’d wanted, what she’d never allowed herself to dream of – a chance to truly be with Harry. And she’d almost pushed him away out of some misguided morals that had apparently been all in her own head. But she wasn’t going to do that anymore. She wasn’t going to push back her own feelings yet another time in order to make someone else happy. Not when it was clear that Harry reciprocated them wholeheartedly. If that made her a selfish person, then so be it. She’d already done enough, given up enough for her friends and family. It was finally her turn. Her turn to be happy. To be loved.

She was sorry for unwittingly playing a role in Ginny’s heartbreak, and she would spend her lifetime figuring out a way to make amends and earn back her trust and forgiveness. What she wouldn’t do anymore was give up the man she’d spent half her lifetime loving just to preserve her friendship with Ginny.

“No.” she breathed. “You weren’t wrong. I do want you Harry! I’ve wanted you for a long, _long_ time. ”

His eyes smoldered and he kissed her with the desperation of a drowning man getting air.

“But…wait…you’re still…” She tried to speak between kisses. He wouldn’t stop kissing her long enough for her to talk, not that she minded that fact – too much. “Harry…” she protested. “I need to know. Are you with Ginny or aren’t you? Because…”

“I’m not.” He stated firmly before she could work herself into a further tizzy. “Whatever little ‘arrangement’ we had going – I broke it off tonight. Told her that things were never going to work out between us because I couldn’t ever love her the way she wanted me to love her.” He cupped her face tenderly. “And do you want to know why I can’t love her the way she wants me to?”

She could only nod.

“I can’t love her that way because I’m totally and irrevocably in love with _you_!”

“Y…you l..love me?” she stuttered completely blindsided with this latest development.

“Silly girl!” He chided. “For someone who claims to know me so well, you sure took your time figuring this one out, didn’t you? Of _course_ , I love you! What do you think this has been all about then, huh? You’ve been my best friend, my confidant, my strength and my biggest supporter all along. How could I not fall for you?” He questioned, tenderly cupping her face. “And if there’s even a remote chance that you feel the same way about me, then I don’t want to waste any more time. So what do you say Mione? Will you be mine? Always and forever?”

“Yes!” she whispered, her face wet with happy tears. “A million times, yes!”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything worth posting in years...and have never written or posted anything for the HP verse, ever (which is ironic since H/Hr is the ship that got me into Fanfic in the first place and I've loved them FOREVER, since I first read the books, in fact!). So, please be gentle with your comments and criticisms...but DO let me know what you think. I love reviews even more than I love Harmony! Well, not really, but you know what I mean! ;)


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